


It takes, and it takes, and it takes

by Katseester



Series: hostages of geography [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katseester/pseuds/Katseester
Summary: A diplomatic mission in Ishgard goes awry.---"You're here for me to hurt, my dear boy. I thought that would be obvious. Aren't you supposed to besmart?" the man taunted, digging his fingers further into Alphinaud's throat.





	It takes, and it takes, and it takes

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings and click away from the page if they don't jive with you :)
> 
> This is purely self-indulgent and I'm making no apologies for that lol
> 
> I _do_ apologize for any technical, scientific, or gameplay inaccuracies in this. I am but a simple music student and I can only do so much research on stuff I know nothing about before my brain explodes.

Coerthas was _cold_.

Colder than Alphinaud remembered, whenever he thought back to the day he and his companions trudged their way miserably up to Dragonhead, across the Steps of Faith, and then through the gates to Ishgard. And that had been in a _blizzard_.

Even the insides of the buildings, built as they were of heavy stone, felt several degrees colder than they ought to. It made sense, he knew; building the city out of anything less than that would be foolish, after centuries of razings from the Dravanians. But there was something about the stone that sucked the warmth from the air. Even the largest of fires in the mantle place could scarce keep him warm at night.

Perhaps it only _felt_ colder to him because he had spent the past year traversing Gyr Abania and Othard, both of which regions did not threaten to take his fingers with frostbite should he forget a pair of mittens.

No, no matter how much time Alphinaud had spent in the frozen expanse of Coerthas's fields, climbing to the treacherous reaches of Sohm Al, or beseeching the aid of an ancient dragon in the Churning Mists, he didn't think he would ever grow accustomed to such frigid temperatures.

This was all made worse by the fact that he would have no one to warm his bed at night; Estinien's temperature was like that of a furnace and sometimes it was unbearable sleeping next to him during the hot nights of summer, but he would be more than welcome here in Ishgard, where it rarely ever crept above freezing. The linkpearl connecting them was a small comfort; it was only to be used in emergencies.

It was a blessing, then, that his trip to the city was meant to be a short one. A visit for business; Ser Aymeric was, unfortunately, unable to attend further summit meetings in Ala Mhigo due to an epidemic sweeping the city-state of Ishgard, and so Lyse had offered Alphinaud as a go-between to speak on her behalf so that the agreements didn't fall through.

Lord Edmont de Fortemps was kind enough to offer him lodging during his stay, and it was with a sigh of relief that Alphinaud unwrapped himself from his overly large parka and warmed himself by the fire of his guest room.

He checked his timepiece. A bell and a half until he was to meet Aymeric in his office, which seemed hardly enough time to set his documents in order. He rose to his feet; there was much to prepare and no time like the present, after all.

* * *

Aymeric was seated behind his desk when Alphinaud entered his office. He offered the younger man a friendly smile upon seeing him, rising to his feet and circling around to shake his hand.

"It's good to see you again, my friend," he said, ushering Alphinaud into a chair and then taking a seat himself. "Would that we had time to catch up, but there are pressing issues which need our attention."

"Likewise," Alphinaud returned. "I'm sure there is much to tell from the both of us, but you didn't invite me here simply to exchange pleasantries."

"Quite right," Aymeric laughed. "There will be time for idle chitchat later, I'm sure. I must apologize again for being unable to make the trip to Ala Mhigo; a new illness has swept the city and I can scarce leave my desk for the paperwork that must be done to ensure the citizens are properly cared for."

"Yes, you mentioned that in your letter," Alphinaud said.

Aymeric nodded. "We shall discuss it more at length in a moment. Now, about the trade agreements outlined by Commander Hext..."

Working with Aymeric was thankfully easy. He was a reasonable man, open to suggestions but unafraid to stand his ground when he felt the need. Alphinaud enjoyed his time with the other man. They worked swiftly to bring about several solutions to the problems that had arisen since Ala Mhigo's liberation. Alphinaud was pleased with their pace.

And so it went throughout the day until it was five bells past noon and they were due to adjourn for the day.

"There is one last thing I would ask of you," Aymeric said, tidying up the documents now scattered across his desk. "I believe I can propose a trade that would benefit both nations greatly, however I'd like to show you the condition of the citizens who have fallen ill as of late and those to whom it falls upon to care for them to stress my point."

That was another thing Alphinaud liked about Aymeric. Perhaps it was because they could now be considered friends, but the older man had become quite transparent when it came to his intentions regarding Ishgard.

"Lead the way," Alphinaud acquiesced.

They didn't have far to go. Aymeric brought him to Ishgard's largest medical centre, whereupon they donned preventative masks before entering the building.

Alphinaud was shocked to see not a single unoccupied bed. Chirurgeons and healers rushed about, exhausted, as dozens upon dozens of patients groaned in feverish pain. They were hardly spared a passing glance.

"It's quite a bit more serious than I thought," Alphinaud admitted, standing as close to the wall as he could so as not to be in the way.

Aymeric sighed. "Every infirmary is filled to the brim with ill patients, and still more are suffering in their own homes. The unfortunate truth is that we don't have enough hands to help all of them. It's a new strain of influenza, one that's quite a bit more severe than the common flu, and our current medicine is doing naught to aid it."

"That's quite a nasty illness," Alphinaud conceded, "But what does this have to do with Ala Mhigo?"

"I am aware that Ala Mhigo is in need of medical supplies - bandages, needles, and sutures in particular," Aymeric said.

"That is correct," he agreed. Already he could see the direction this was going in. "The revolution left us in short supply, and any assistance would be appreciated."

Aymeric seemed pleased by that admission. He gestured to the infirmary at large, to the occupied beds and overworked chirurgeons and their assistants. "We're working on modifying our medication to deal with this new strain, however there's an ingredient we require that is only available from Gyr Abania: the aluminum sulfate produced from the Saltery in the Lochs."

"I see," Alphinaud said, nodding. He brought his hand to his chin, thinking. "In exchange for Ishgardian medical supplies you would ask for this aluminum sulfate in return."

"I am aware of the difficulties in creating this compound," Aymeric said, "and would offer three times the amount it's worth to make up for the trouble. Ishgard has a surplus of these such supplies at the moment; as you can see, we are ailed not by conflict but by disease. We would be happy to offer them up in trade."

Alphinaud scanned the infirmary. Even as countless chirurgeons scurried to and fro, one among them caught Alphinaud's eye; he was not dressed as the rest of the staff and wore a hood, and as he turned Alphinaud caught glimpse of an ugly, pulling scar across the side of his face.

Aymeric noticed where his gaze had been drawn, and said, "We brought him in from the Western Highlands. He used to treat most of our knights at the Convictory whenever they had needs of it, but with the conflict with the Dravanians ended there wasn't much else we could offer him. He seemed glad of the opportunity for work."

Alphinaud hummed, and turned away from the room at large to face Aymeric. "In any case, I should think Ala Mhigo would be receptive to your offer. The Saltery is in full boom at the moment and I don't see any trouble in procuring the aluminum sulfate you need for your people. I'll pen a letter to Commander Hext this evening outlining the proposal."

Aymeric beamed.

* * *

Their business concluded for the day, Aymeric bid him a good evening with the promise of another productive day tomorrow.

Alphinaud began to make his way back to the Fortemps manor, shivering in the cold. Miserable as the freezing climes made him, Ishgard was beautiful in the evening, awash with the pale light of the moon. The spires of the Vault pierced the darkened sky above.

The streets of the Pillars were empty this time of night. Lamplight illuminated his path, but other than the odd guard here and there it was as though Alphinaud were the only soul alive.

He strode past the entryway to the manor and instead made his way to the edge of the city. He could take a moment to appreciate the view, he supposed. He didn't know when he would return next.

The drop over the railing was breathtaking, if not a little dizzying. He leaned out over the abyss, ignoring how the cold air bit at his exposed skin. How far down, he wondered, would a person fall before they reached the bottom? Pulling back, he wrapped his parka more snugly around himself, burying his nose in his scarf.

"A fine evening, my good sir," called a voice from the fountain behind him.

Alphinaud began to turn to greet this stranger, but he'd scarce turned his head before pain exploded behind his eyes, rendering the world around him dark.

* * *

Alphinaud regained consciousness slowly and to a blinding headache pulsing in a painful staccato rhythm at the back of his skull.

He blinked blearily into the dim light. He was...upright, he thought. Seated. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but he found he couldn't move. A dull, pulling ache twinged at his shoulders; his arms were tied behind him, then. And his legs - also restrained.

The room was bare but for an ancient set of shackles bolted to the stone wall, a solitary hanging lantern, and a table to his left side. Various instruments lay scattered upon it, all crafted from metal and cruel in nature. The only thing out of place was Alphinaud's tome, lying haphazardly across the table, half hanging over the edge as though thrown there as an afterthought. Perhaps it was; tied up as he was, Alphinaud could hardly make a grab for it.

There were no windows. A basement room, then.

He realized he must be someone's captive just as the door swung open and a tall figure stepped into the room, crossing over to him in three strides, blocking the light and casting his silhouette in shadow.

"You're awake. Good."

The hyuran man knelt before him, and as the darkness upon him shifted to reveal his face, Alphinaud noticed the gnarled, taught scar tissue that covered half of his skull. Even without the hood he was instantly recognizable as the chirurgeon who had caught Alphinaud's attention earlier in the day.

"Ah, I see the light of recognition in your eyes. Good, good. Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"I can't say that I do," Alphinaud answered, and the man chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, of course not. How silly of me. Then answer me this: do you know why you're here?" He spoke softly and with a mild cadence to his words, as though he were engaging Alphinaud in conversation over that day's weather.

"I don't."

The man laughed again, easy and carefree, and then his hand darted out to Alphinaud's throat, catching him in an iron grip and squeezing so that he was left gasping helplessly for air that would not come.

"You're here for me to hurt, my dear boy. I thought that would be obvious. Aren't you supposed to be _smart?"_ the man taunted, digging his fingers further into Alphinaud's throat. Dark spots began to burst over his vision.

And then he let go. Alphinaud sucked in a wheezing breath, coughing through the throbbing pain. "What - do you want?" he gasped, chest heaving.

The man hit him across the face. Alphinaud tasted blood where his teeth had dug into his cheek. "Did I not just tell you?" the man said. "Dear, dear, you really aren't that quick on the uptake, are you?"

"I meant in a broader sense," Alphinaud retorted, and earned himself another strike to the other cheek.

"You're a very obnoxious boy," the man said calmly, evenly. "And you appear to hold no concern for your own physical wellbeing, which under normal circumstances might make things slightly less enjoyable. But I wonder..." And here his fingers trailed down Alphinaud's arms to his wrist, resting gently on the red strip of cloth tied there in a threatening gesture. "How would the infallible Azure Dragoon react were he to see you very slowly and very carefully removed of your facilities, one by one? No legs with which to walk, no hands with which to touch, no tongue with which to speak, no eyes with which to see. How long, I wonder, before he would go mad with fury and despair? How long would you survive, my dear, with your own sanity intact?"

Alphinaud bit back the retort that he would _kill himself before he let that happen, after all, he was left ungagged and could very easily bite through his own tongue_ , lest he give this man any more ideas.

His fingers traced a gentle line over Alphinaud's bruised cheek, coming to rest on his chin in a cruel mockery of intimacy. "I'm going to do all of this, and more, once your friend arrives. I'm going to make him _watch_ as I take you apart, piece by piece."

Alphinaud couldn't help barking out a laugh at that. "You seem to be under the wrong impression," he sneered, mustering all courage he could to this disdainful facade. He jerked his face away from his captor's fingers. "The Azure Dragoon has more important things to worry about than a crude ransomer and his pitiable prize."

"Is that so, Master Leveilleur?" the man said, tilting his head inquisitively. At Alphinaud's shocked expression he laughed. "That's right, my boy, I've done my research. I know who you are. I know what you are to him. I know everything I need to make him suffer as I have."

A spike of fear thrilled through Alphinaud's chest despite his best efforts to suppress it. He struggled not to let it show on his face.

His captor leaned back and straightened to his full height, turning to the table beside them. He plucked from it a knife, allowing it to glint in the dim light before kneeling before Alphinaud again. "Did you know, I sent a message to him not a long while ago through that convenient device of yours, and I told him to leave that pesky armour and his weapons behind lest something...unfortunate befall you. He should be on his way, and quite swiftly, I would assume, given your particular relationship."

"If he comes," Alphinaud challenged. "I doubt he would be quite so thoughtless as to value one individual over himself."

"He will." He spoke the words with such certainty, twirling the knife in his fingers. It made Alphinaud feel sick. "He sounded quite incensed when I informed him of your predicament. I can only hazard a guess he used the nearest Aetheryte and is making ready to storm the building, so I must act with all due haste if I am to generate the desired effect." He tore open the front of Alphinaud's shirt, exposing the skin beneath. The tip of the knife pricked at his breast, above his heart. "I would enjoy very much to see his expression as I plunged this into your chest. It would bring me _such_ satisfaction. But I must exercise restraint, or I'll spoil the game for myself, wouldn't you agree?" He allowed the blade to drag across Alphinaud's skin anyway; he hissed in a breath at the sting of the wound. "I'll have to settle on presenting you to him covered in your own blood. I daresay he'll still be furious."

"What point are you trying to make in summoning him here?" Alphinaud demanded, and then had to bite down on his tongue as the man carved another careful incision into his chest, grunting with the effort of holding in a pained cry. "Why are you so hellsbent on this - sick _game,_ all to bring him to harm?"

This wiped the pleased sneer from the man's expression. He grabbed Alphinaud's collar and pulled him as far forward as his restraints would allow, shoving his face scant ilms from his, lips curled in a snarl. Alphinaud's shoulders screamed in protest; he couldn't help the shocked wimper that escaped him.

"He took everything from me, in his pathetic quest for vengeance," his captor said, voice tight with hate, "and I intend to return the favour. I will take you apart, bit by bit, and I will make him _watch_ , and when he can no longer take the sight of your wretched, broken body, I'll do the same to him. I'm going to keep the both of you here forever, and I'm going to make him look upon the awful sight of you until it drives him mad. I won't give him the mercy of death. He does not _deserve_ that kindness!"

"You're insane," Alphinaud managed.

The blow to his face was instantaneous, cracking his head to the side.

"An insane man deserves his vengeance just as much as the rest," the man retorted, shoving Alphinaud back, then stepped away from him and straightened up. Suddenly he was back to his cool, even temperament as though his outburst had never occurred. "I'll let you in on a secret: I'm a chirurgeon by trade, but I suppose you already knew that. It was...difficult not to give myself away as soon as I saw you standing in the infirmary with Ser Aymeric. I wanted to push you up against the wall and throttle you until the life left your poor, frail body. But that would not do, no. That would not do. I want to make you _suffer_ , my dear boy. I'm a surgeon; I know how to hurt people, and I know how to keep them alive while I do it.

"Let's remove you of your fingers, shall we? That always sends a message. I daresay your cries of pain will hasten his entrance." He reached around to pull one of Alphinaud's hands free of its restraints, and a hundred thoughts raced through his mind - he could push forward and bite the man; his nose, or lips, or ears would be painful enough that he might reel back and give Alphinaud time to lunge for his tome - one swift strike to his nose would push the bone into his brain -

The grip on his wrist tightened, as though he'd read Alphinaud's thoughts. "Ah, ah, ah, none of that," the man said, forcing Alphinaud's arm onto the armrest of the chair, just far enough out of reach of Alphinaud's range of motion for him to put any of these thoughts into action. He was stronger than Alphinaud, and so the younger man was helpless to stop him from strapping his limb there and affixing the device to his index finger. The man pulled back for a moment to pluck one of the foul-looking instruments from the table. Alphinaud prayed it would be quick, though he knew it would not be. "The bones in a hyuran hand are thin, delicate. Even more-so in the hands of an elezen, and especially in one of your stature. It doesn't take much force at all to sever them..."

Alphinaud could feel the cold metal blade begin to bite into his skin, slow and meticulous, merciless. He resolved to hold in his screams as much as he could even as the beginnings of one began to claw its way up his throat -

The door slammed open.

Bereft of armour, Estinien launched himself into the room, lance in hand and fury in his eyes, a guttural roar tearing itself from his lips, but before he could take more than two steps he halted, frozen in place.

The bite of metal had eased off Alphinaud's finger as a blade pressed against his throat. The man had maneuvered himself behind Alphinaud. He was quicker than Alphinaud had given him credit for, and he felt foolish for forgetting. Of course the man was quick; he'd managed to sneak up on him and club him over the head not half a day earlier.

The man clicked his tongue. "This was not our deal," he chided. "Weapon down, or I slit the boy's throat."

Estinien didn't move. "The moment you take his life will be the moment I take yours," he rasped, voice laced with ice.

"I _said_ , weapon down," the man repeated, pressing the blade closer against Alphinaud's throat. He could feel warmth trickling over his skin; he must have drawn blood.

"Don't do it," Alphinaud warned, giving him a pointed look; Estinien's expression, normally stoic and neutral even in the most heated of battle, twisted with warring emotions.

Slowly, Estinien's grip on his lance loosened and it dropped to the floor with a great clatter. His eyes did not leave the man. "You pissing whoreson," he growled, I'm going to pin you to the chimney and let your corpse rot!"

The man ignored Estinien's venomous words. "Good man. Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"The fuck should I know that," Estinien spat.

"My name is Amaury," the man continued, as though Estinien hadn't spoken. "I come from a small settlement to the north, at the edge of the Forelands. Seeing as how you don't recall who I am, I see fit to enlighten you.

"I remember clearly the day the wyvern crawled into the village. It was a sad little thing, more skin and bone than anything, and bleeding all over. Everyone else sought to turn it away, but my mother and father were always so _soft..._ when they saw how it cried, they felt bad for it. Treated its wounds, gave it some food, and sent it on its way.

"It came back not a week later with the rest of its brood and razed our village to the ground. We were done for, only - the Azure Dragoon made his grand appearance to help us, I thought. These were Nidhogg's broodlings, so of course you would assist us against his kin. But...you didn't. You were so consumed by your _duty_ , your vengeance against that damnable wyrm, that you killed the dragons and left the rest of us to die. My parents died. My friends died. My _love_ \- everyone I cared for died, because you were too caught up in your _righteous duty_ to spare a thought for anyone but yourself!"

His hand twitched; the knife bit further into Alphinaud's skin. Alphinaud hissed out a breath between clenched teeth.

"Watch your blade, lest you find yourself without a hand," Estinien ground out, eyes flicking down to the wound on Alphinaud's throat.

Amaury laughed, high and cruel. "I'd like to see you try, _Azure Dragoon_ ," he taunted. "Unless you want me to kill the boy, you're going to place yourself in the shackles on the wall over there."

"Don't - " Alphinaud began to warn him, but Amaury struck him again and tugged back on his hair so that his neck, pale and bleeding, was further exposed.

Glaring, Estinien moved carefully to where Amaury instructed, never turning his back on them, and closed his wrists in the rusted shackles there. With Estinien thus restrained, Amaury removed the knife from Alphinaud's throat a fraction so that it no longer dug so perilously into his skin.

"Brought low by your affection to some common boy," Amaury howled, delighted. "How sad, for you to have fallen so far. You know, I once thought us similar, but I can see now that that can't be further from the truth. I survived the burning of my village, and I dedicated my life to inflicting the same kind of pain on you. I'm going to ruin you, and I'm going to savour _every. Moment. Of it._ " He accentuated each phrase with a blow to the side of Alphinaud's skull; stars exploded before Alphinaud's vision, and when they finally faded and the room around him came back into focus, Estinien looked absolutely livid.

This proved to be Amaury's undoing; he must not have been very careful in undoing the knots tying Alphinaud's arm to the chair earlier, such was his confidence in his scheme. The commotion of striking Alphinaud had loosened the restraints on his arm still strapped behind the chair, and he managed to wriggle it free without Amaury noticing, or so he hoped.

So overconfident he'd been that he had left Alphinaud's tome upon the table within arms' reach, and with this information Alphinaud began formulating a plan. He tried to meet Estinien's eye but the other man, intent on Amaury and seething with hate, didn't notice.

As soon as the blade of the knife eased off of his throat completely Alphinaud shot out his arm and snatched up his tome; his moonstone carbuncle materialized in a shower of blinding aether and launched itself at Amaury, latching onto his face with tooth and claw. Amaury dropped the knife as he reeled back, crying out in pain, and it landed heavily in Alphinaud's lap. In a motion so fast Alphinaud almost didn't register it, Estinien wrenched the entire fixture holding him from the wall, showering dust from the old stone through the air. He dove for his lance, leaping forward and impaling Amaury through his shoulder; his weight at the back of Alphinaud disappeared, and so he plucked the knife from his lap and got to work freeing himself.

By the time he had cut away the last restraints, Estinien was back at his side. He'd already wrenched apart the old iron from his wrists, and began tearing a strip from his tunic and fashioning a makeshift bandage out of it to tie around Alphinaud's neck. "You fool," he said, but his tone was awash with relief. "By the Fury, I wondered what you had in mind when you started fidgeting like that."

"Amaury - " Alphinaud began, but Estinien shushed him, brushing his fringe away from his forehead.

"Unconscious, and he'll stay that way until the authorities arrive or he dies." He growled at the lacerations along Alphinaud's chest, staining his skin and shirtfront crimson.

"They aren't deep," Alphinaud explained, faint with relief. His ears were ringing from the excitement of it all, pulse pounding with adrenaline. "He wanted to make a show out of me more than anything. I should be fine until we return to Ishgard." He made to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him. Estinien's shout of alarm sounded from far away; when had he moved to the hall? And the light - when had that been extinguished? Alphinaud's thoughts hazed over, and then he knew of nothing at all.

* * *

When he woke next, it was to the high ceiling and deep red walls of the Fortemps manor. He felt a sluggish, bone-deep exhaustion that dragged him into the mattress, and it was with great effort that he turned his head and saw the light colour of his lover's hair splayed over the covers beside him.

"'Stinien?" he slurred, and the other man jolted awake and upright, immediately reaching for Alphinaud's hand.

"I'm here," he said, quiet and gentle, as though Alphinaud were on his deathbed.

"Did you sleep on the floor?" Alphinaud asked, amusement colouring his voice, and instead of answering Estinien simply brushed his fingers through Alphinaud's hair.

"You should rest. That - _man_ \- " Estinien spat the word as though it burned his tongue; even now fury roiled beneath the surface, barely contained - "coated his blade with a paralysis agent so potent the healers were afraid you might not regain consciousness."

Something buzzed in Alphinaud's mind. "That doesn't make sense," he mused. "He said he was going to make us watch as he dismembered us. He was quite mad. And he wouldn't stop _talking_ , gods." Laughter bubbled up in his chest.

"He said what?" Estinien growled, hand stilled over the curve of Alphinaud's ear.

"It's all fine though," Alphinaud continued, smiling at Estinien's sour expression. "You came for me."

"Of course I did," Estinien said tersely. He had resumed running his fingers through Alphinaud's hair, and the younger man hummed pleasantly at the sensation.

"Thank you," he murmured. Too soon Estinien was pulling his hand back and rising to his feet, but sleep was tugging at Alphinaud's eyelids and he could do naught but mumble his dissatisfaction at the loss of contact.

* * *

The following morning he was lucid enough to leave his bed, but he made it only halfway across the room before his legs buckled and he collapsed to the floor, chest heaving from the effort. Alarm spiked within him at his sapped strength, but there was naught he could do unless he wanted to drag himself pitifully back to his bed.

Moments later the door swung open and one of the Fortemps manor servants - most likely summoned by the commotion within the room - was helping him down the hall to the washroom and then back to bed. She explained the lasting effects of the paralysis solution he'd been poisoned with that he only vaguely remembered discussing the previous evening.

"According to the healer It'll be a few more days before it's completely out of your system, and until then you might not have full control of your faculties, so try not to exert yourself for now, okay?" she said kindly, replacing the cold warming brick near his feet.

Alphinaud mumbled an accordance, embarrassed. The servant brought over his documents at his request, so that he wouldn't go completely out of his mind with boredom while bedridden.

Estinien arrived that evening as the sun was dipping below the distant mountain range, casting a weak, orange glow over the room. Alphinaud felt, rather than heard, the land of feet upon the windowsill, and fumbled for the lock before Estinien could break the window.

"You're still here," he breathed, and allowed his lover to gather him into his arms, mindful of the hurts still mending along his body.

"Of course," Estinien said. He let Alphinaud go after a moment, sitting back to look upon him seriously. "We must discuss what transpired, much as I would like to strike it from my memory."

"Ah," Alphinaud said. "Yes, of course. Are you alright?"

Estinien barked out a surprised laugh. "Am I - ? Yes, I'm fine. I should be the one asking you that."

"I am perfectly fine myself. I've been mended up remarkably well, considering," Alphinaud said. The healers had done a magnificent job closing the wounds along his chest and throat; they had been mostly superficial, after all. _For show_ , he recalled bitterly. He still ached where he'd been injured, and although his skin still carried mottled bruising where he'd been cut into and struck, the swelling had gone down significantly. (Or so he'd been told. He wasn't conscious for the worst of it.) He was lucky to have escaped the encounter without a concussion.

He gestured to his paperwork stacked neatly on the bedside table. "However, I've had naught to entertain myself with but the work that I cannot properly complete because, at current, taking more than three steps is enough to leave me winded. Where have you been all day?"

Guilt twinged over Estinien's expression. "Apologies," he began, but Alphinaud silenced him with a soft kiss.

"I jest. I'm only glad you're here now," he said, and then frowned. "You smell of smoke. Just what have you been up to?"

"I was tending to some unfinished business," Estinien answered. "In the Western Highlands."

"You didn't do anything - _unwise_ ," Alphinaud suggested lightly, and Estinien's refusal to meet his gaze was answer enough. "Estinien, please tell me you didn't do anything you'll regret."

"I didn't," Estinien said tersely. "I only returned to that cursed bastard's clinic and burned the entire godsdamned building to the ground."

Alphinaud gaped. "You did - _what_ \- "

"After I was sure you were in no danger and the investigation had concluded, I returned and I set it ablaze."

"But - why?" Alphinaud spluttered. "There was no need to go that far - "

"There wasn't, but I did it anyway," Estinien bit out, fire in his eyes. "I wasn't going to leave that place standing after what he'd done to you. After what he was _going_ to do to you. I'd have skewered the bastard at first opportunity, but - "

He cut himself off and stubbornly turned away from the younger man.

"But?" Alphinaud hedged, after it became apparent Estinien had no intent to continue.

"I knew you would want a _proper trial_ for his crimes." He ground out the words.

Alphinaud was struck speechless. Wordlessly, he reached out; Estinien leaned into his embrace, burying his nose in the loose hair behind Alphinaud's ear.

"Thank you," Alphinaud breathed, and sighed as Estinien's arms around him shifted, pulling him in closer.

"When he contacted me with your linkpearl I wanted to - gods, I wanted him dead by my hand," Estinien growled, pulling back only so far as to trace the lines of Alphinaud's face with his eyes. He lingered on his lips, eyes dark with - fury, or desire, Alphinaud could not tell. Perhaps it was both. He pulled Estinien back in so that he could breathe his scent. He nosed at the crook behind his ear and enjoyed how Estinien shivered at the touch.

"It's a good thing you restrained yourself," Alphinaud murmured against his hair. "Had you needs of being on the run for a justified, albeit unlawful, murder, who knows when I would be able to see you next. It absolutely would not do. I'd be beside myself with worry."

Estinien rasped out a low chuckle, and the sound of it, rough and warm, filled Alphinaud with fondness.

"I see your brush with death hasn't left you lacking for words," Estinien said, a playful lilt to his tone, and then his lips were tickling up the curve of Alphinaud's neck, over his jaw, and finally to his mouth.

"I should hope not," Alphinaud breathed, once they had parted. "My meetings with Ser Aymeric resume once I am well enough to stand for longer than five minutes, and I need all my wits about me if I am to conclude the proceedings swiftly so I can leave this damnable cold behind me."

"Still not a fan of it, eh," Estinien teased, easing them back onto the pillows.

"Not particularly, no," Alphinaud said. Estinien was staring at him intently, as though he could memorize every line of Alphinaud's face just by looking long enough. "Though it does remind me of the journey we took together. Gods, it seems ages ago now. I must say, however, much as I enjoyed your company back then I would rather have had it somewhere warmer."

"Had I known then what effect you would have on me," Estinien murmured, reverent, but then his eyes turned serious. He took Alphinaud's hand in his. "I should explain what that man said, about me."

A cold weight settled in Alphinaud's stomach, extinguishing the mirth that had been bubbling there mere moments ago. "Alright then," he said, gripping his lover's fingers just as tightly. Amaury's tale of his encounter with Estinien had been bothering him; though he had tried to push it from his mind, it still scratched at the back of his consciousness, begging for attention.

"He spoke the truth."

It was a simple statement, spoken without emotion, and yet within Estinien's expression Alphinaud spied something akin to sadness.

"I won't deny that what I did on that day was wrong," Estinien continued. "I was - not as I am now. You must understand that before I met the Warrior of Light, before I met _you_ , I was - "

"Estinien," Alphinaud said gently, but his lover shook his head.

"I was naught more than a mindless beast, obsessed with vengeance," Estinien said, voice halting and heavy. His grip on Alphinaud's fingers tightened and he refused to look at him. "Saving those villagers, Amaury's family, didn't even cross my mind in the wake of pursuing Nidhogg's brood. My revenge. But the worst of it is - even now, some part of me feels that what I did is of no consequence."

He spoke it as a confession. An out for him, Alphinaud realized, should he no longer wish to be involved with the older man.

The idea was preposterous, absurd.

"We cannot change the actions we committed in the past," he said, picking his words carefully. He took Estinien's chin in his free hand and lifted his head so as to meet his eyes. "But that doesn't make you any less of who you are now. It doesn't change how I think of you, or how I feel for you."

The lines along Estinien's face tightened. He made to pull away, to hide himself from his love, but Alphinaud slipped his hand around to his nape, pulling him close to his chest and holding him as he shook.

"I should not be the one in need of comfort," Estinien eventually said, voice thick, and when he made to pull away this time Alphinaud let him.

"It's no burden," Alphinaud murmured, smoothing back his fringe. He leaned forward; Estinien met him halfway in a soft, chaste kiss. He had to stifle a yawn behind his hand afterwards.

"You should rest. You're exhausted."

"Will you stay?" Alphinaud asked, more weight behind the words than he intended. He was terrified for one awful moment that despite his reassurances he would wake up and Estinien would be gone, and this time would not return.

"Yes," Estinien answered, pulling the younger man close to him. There was a tremor to his voice that Alphinaud hadn't heard before, and he thought understood what he was trying to say.

He listened to the slow, even beat of Estinien's heart within his chest, and let sleep take him.

* * *

Estinien, strangely enough, did not leave the following morning as Alphinaud had expected him to.

He was awoken by the high-pitched scream of the servant girl and the thundering of footsteps down the hall as the rest of the manor's inhabitants ran to aid her. There was a moment of great confusion and panic as Alphinaud reached for his tome as well, only to realize there was a body blocking him from rolling out of bed, and the body was grumbling about the noise at this ungodly hour.

"By the Fury, is that Estinien Wyrmblood?!" Edmont de Fortemps exclaimed from the doorway.

It was such that Alphinaud, clad in only his nightshirt, scarlet to the tips of his ears, had to explain to Lord Fortemps that yes, Estinien was his friend, no, he was not a danger to anyone in the estate, if you could please allow him to stay here, in the same room if you wouldn't mind, no, he won't be a bother to anyone, all as Estinien glowered from the bed at the lord's youngest son, who looked rather silly in his pajamas with his sword drawn.

Things had nearly calmed down until Estinien announced that Alphinaud would no longer be in need of the services of any of the Fortemps manor servants, causing another uproar among the lord, his servants, and his son. Alphinaud flushed as understanding dawned in Lord Fortemps' eyes, but the man simply grumbled his permission before sweeping everyone out of the room.

A week later saw Alphinaud recovered enough to resume his duties as ambassador, and so his meetings with Aymeric also resumed promptly and without much fanfare.

He had received several letters during his time in bed. One from the Warrior of Light, expressing their outrage at the  _nerve_ of that thrice-damned voidspawn and their approval of Alphinaud's quick thinking under duress.

One from Ser Aymeric, apologizing profusely for allowing this to happen while in the city at his request, assuring him that Amaury would be tried to the full extent of the law, explaining that he'd been in touch with Lyse over the entire affair, and wishing him a speedy recovery.

One from Lyse, outlining just exactly what she would do to "that absolute prick" if she ever met him in person. It was very graphic and Alphinaud appreciated her anger on his behalf. The second half of the letter stated that although she wished she could make the journey out to Ishgard to ensure no further harm came to her diplomatic ambassador, she simply did not have the time and was confident Ser Aymeric was dealing with the situation appropriately.

Two from his sister; the first simply said _If you die I will ABSOLUTELY NOT forgive you_ , while the second was generally more composed but shared the same sentiment. Also that if he did not speed along these meetings and return to Ala Mhigo, she would simply have to come and retrieve him. Alphinaud laughed aloud upon reading both.

Amaury was tried before the Ishgardian court and found guilty of the kidnapping and assault of a diplomatic ambassador. Alphinaud attended the trial. Estinien did not.

It was probably for the best.

 

**Author's Note:**

> me: yeah idk when I'll write anything next  
> me: [churns out nearly 7k in like 3 days]


End file.
